


i found you there between the pages

by romanochi



Category: James Bond (Movies), James Bond - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bookshop Owner Q, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-06
Updated: 2018-07-06
Packaged: 2019-06-06 01:21:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15183626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/romanochi/pseuds/romanochi
Summary: Bookshop! AUQ is a bookshop owner. James is an agent. Q is determined to find a book that James likes but not before falling in love with him first.





	i found you there between the pages

Finding the bookshop is a purely chance encounter.  
   
If left to his own devices, James is not the kind of person who goes looking for hipster bookshops that look as though they sell antiques instead of books. He doesn’t wander and he certainly doesn’t let fate take him as it may.  
   
So James can’t help that he finds the bookshop completely on accident. Later, he’ll blame it on the torrential rain and the fact that his Aston is in the shop for repairs. He’ll blame it on shitty London weather and shitty London traffic and the fact that MI6 is halfway across the city from his flat. He’ll blame it on everything but something as silly as fate.  
   
Bells chime overhead as he ducks into the shop. He glances up at them, lips twisting into something that sits between a smile and exasperation.  
   
How quaint.  
   
He’s brushing off the worst of the rainfall when there’s a soft thump and a quiet string of expletives from the back of the shop in reply to the bells’ soft calls.  
   
“I’ll be there in a moment!” Someone yells back.  
   
James hovers uncertainly for a moment, unsure whether he is supposed to answer or not, before diving headlong into the shop. The shop, quite simply, is a mess. It’s as if the Chaos Theory had decided to call this place home, to build towering stacks of books, ancient volumes slotted alongside fresh ones, cracked bindings nestled besides ones that have yet to bend under human touch. James breathes and the ever so familiar scent of old books lingers, accented by crisp paper and coffee.  
   
“Hello, how may I help you?”  
   
It takes a lot more than it should to keep James from being startled by the man that has somehow managed to sneak up on him. He is slim, delicate, looks as if he’s just barely out of uni. He smiles despite the fact that he’s slightly breathless and that there’s dust in his hair. It’s rather endearing, if not expected of the types that choose to run hole-in-the-wall bookshops.  
   
“I’m…well,” James trails off sheepishly. He’d had the intention of simply saying ‘I’m just looking around’ as to avoid having to stay any longer than necessary, but curiosity gets the better of him. “I’m mostly looking for poetry.”  
   
The man ticks an eyebrow. James understands. He supposes that he doesn’t really fit the part, what in his bespoke Tom Ford and less than gentle face. The man recovers quickly and hums thoughtfully. “Anything specific? Authors, time periods, styles?”  
   
“Anything.” James replies firmly.  
   
The man shrugs easily, motioning for him to follow. As he’s led through the shop, James begins to see how, despite the utter chaos, there is a kind of order to the shelves and stacks. Everything is put somewhere for a reason and though the system is complicated at first glance, it is actually very simple. James hides a smile. This bookshop is meant for those who stay, those who come back. It’s almost a challenge.  
   
“Right, here we are.” the man says triumphantly, eyes lighting up a bit, “The section’s rather large,” He motions down the entire length of shelves, “If you want something specific, just call, yeah?”  
   
James hums something akin to a response, rolling acknowledgement and thanks into the same low vowel, same small quirk to his lips.  
   
“Thank you.” he says, just to get the point across.  
   
But if the dry smile across the man’s lips is anything to go by, James knows that he’s been understood. The man turns to leave but hesitates just as his heel takes the spin.  
   
“I—well, I’m Q.” he says, holding out a hand, “I own this place.”  
   
“I figured,” James replies, taking the hand in a firm grasp, “James Bond.”  
   
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Bond.”  
   
“James is fine.”  
   
There’s a small smile, a small shift.  
   
“Alright. James, then.”  
   
—  
   
James leaves the shop an hour after the rain has stopped. He stays longer than he’d intended to, unaware of time in the midst of the shop’s quiet comforts and solidarity. James is used to being alone but he can’t remember the last time being alone feels quite as nice as this. Q shuffles about in the back and save for the occasional hummed bar of song, the only sounds that keep James company are the rain and the traffic. Q appears to tend to another customer just as James makes to take his leave.  
   
“Nothing to your liking?” Q asks as he sends off the elderly woman. There’s nothing judgmental about it and James decides to answer.  
   
“I’m afraid not.” James replies, honestly, “Which isn’t much of a surprise. I’m…picky about what I choose to spend time reading.”  
   
“Brilliant, you’re one of those.” Q says and this time around, James does decide to take offense.  
   
But before he can protest or before he can even leave, Q is slipping past James and picking through a stack of books. He returns with a rather thin volume, packaging it in a small bag before sliding it across the polished wood of the counter.  
   
“Read it.” Q says in a pleasantly mild voice, “You can bring it back if you don’t like it.”  
   
James raises an eyebrow at the offer and Q smirks. It’s a terribly tempting challenge and James has never been good at backing down from those, no matter what MI6 says.  
   
“I’ll hold you to your word.”  
   
“Oh, I don’t think I’ll be seeing you around too soon, Mr. Bond.” Is all Q says and James wants to wipe that smug look off his face.  
   
—  
   
James goes home and bums around the best he can. He’s weary and restless in that way that all field agents get when they’re off-duty and temporarily thrown back into a horrible slow-paced life. He ends up on his balcony in the familiar company of a well used mug and a bottle of scotch from his favorite distillery, his cigarette tapping out ashes over the railing. It’s pathetic at best and he laughs at the worst, peering into his mug from time to time and wondering exactly what the fuck he’s doing. The book from the shop is tucked next to his side and he picks it up. As he cracks it open, a small slip of paper flutters haphazardly to the ground and he snatches blindly at it, catching it in the crevice between forefinger and thumb. Its rough pulpiness tells him that it’s a corner of this morning’s paper and scrawled across it in unmistakably elegant pen, are the words: ‘You’ll like it, I promise.’. James laughs at the sheer absurdity of it and pages to the beginning of the book.  
   
James reads the damned book in one sitting (he doesn’t leave his balcony for three hours). James reads the book and has to give himself a moment after he’s shut it to fathom that it’s over and that it has been. James reads the book and is left wholly empty and completely alive at the same time.  
   
—  
   
Two days later, James slips into the shop. Q is already with another customer at the moment and doesn’t notice as James strolls through the stacks, glancing at books with polite interest, thumbing through the ones that catch his attention.  
   
His mother had taught him to appreciate good literature, words that catch and provoke emotion.  
   
He’d forgotten what that was like.  
   
Q catches sight of him minutes later and James appreciates the slight shock in the younger man’s eyes. He tilts his head in a frown, taking note of James’ empty hands as they meet at the counter.  
   
“The book…?”  
   
“I’m not here to return it.” James replies, smiling broadly, “I’m here because I want another.”  
   
Q’s eyebrows fly up and he opens his mouth before closing it again. “I take it that you enjoyed the other one?” he manages after a moment.  
   
“Thoroughly.” James says smoothly.  
   
“My offer still stands, you know. If you don’t like it, bring it back.”  
   
James meets Q’s eyes and it’s there that he’s tipping, there that he knows he’s gone.  
   
“Then try to find me a book I won’t like.”  
   
Q’s eyes steel for a brief moment and there’s surprising strength behind thick glasses and a slight frame. He's trying not to smile but then again, so is James. He knows how this will end.


End file.
